


Predators

by BelleErotique



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Bisexuality, Blood and Violence, Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Other, Period-Typical Racism, Sexual Content, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:32:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4366709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelleErotique/pseuds/BelleErotique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Free-spirited stage dancer Philomena accepts an assignation with her theater's newest benefactor only to find herself thrown into the middle of a dark game where murderers stalk the night and salvation comes in the most unexpected packages.</p><p>Previously begun on another site under another pen-name - this is my original work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Unsatisfactory Prey

Clarissa was having fun, unlike most of the other whores working this area. She enjoyed the dangerous edge she walked most of the time. She liked the rough hands of the dockworkers and sailors. She loved the furious sound of their heavy breathing as they pushed her up against the cold brick walls in the darkened alleys. She could get a job in one of the cathouses any time she wanted too. She was pretty enough and still healthy and clean, despite the rough area that she worked. But she was never tempted. She always knew somehow who was sick and stayed away from them. The men always paid what she asked and never tried to take it back when they were done. They knew a good thing when they saw it. 

A husky laugh escaped her lips as her newest john turned her around and pressed her up against the wall. The brick scraped her cheek as he lifted her skirts and thrust into her all in one quick motion. She lifted her ass, balancing on the balls of her feet, giving him full access to her cunt. She groaned as his second thrust forced her even closer to the wall. He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, arching her neck and shoulders away from the wall as he continued thrusting into her violently. Clarissa could hear his excited grunting right next to her ear now and felt his rhythm change to quick lunges as his breathing sped up. He was close to cumming. Clarissa felt a momentary annoyance at how quickly he was going to finish. His extra roughness excited her and she had hoped to cum herself as well. He came suddenly, more quickly even than she had anticipated. He didn’t pull out, continuing to pump her as he jetted his sperm. She’d made him wear a condom, so she didn’t feel the hot fluid, but she could tell by the way he moved and how his penis jerked inside her that he was cumming violently. He thrust deeply again one final time and then let his limp cock slip out of her. He stepped back, but kept hold of her hair. Clarissa automatically stepped back into him, following the firm grip. She felt her skirts settle back around her hips and calves. She kept her neck arched to ease the strain of his grip. Strangely, he still panted like he was fucking her. 

She was turning her head to look at him when it happened. It was so quick that she really didn’t realize or understand until she suddenly couldn’t breathe. There was a cold feeling at her throat and then she was falling. She twisted as she fell and landed abruptly on her ass. She reached up and groped at her throat, trying to catch her breath. Her hand came away dark and sticky as blood began to gush from a gaping wound. She tried to staunch the flow, but it was coming too fast. 

She looked up at the man, her eyes questioning and angry. He stared down at her, his own eyes gleaming in that peculiar and intense way that had originally attracted her to him. He held a long thin knife in one hand. Clarissa was amazed to see that there was very little blood on the knife and none at all on the man. The front of her dress was soaked now despite her clutching hands. She felt her vision beginning to blur and knew that she was going to die. She tried to rise, perhaps to run away. The man didn’t try to stop her, just watched her. She couldn’t manage more than a few scrambling slips before she fell back against the brick wall. She gave up trying to hold her throat and let her hands fall limp at her sides. Her last thought before she slipped into darkness was how young he was, almost a kid really. 

She didn’t see his peculiar eyes dim as she died, or hear the sigh of disappointment that issued from his lips when her last breath gurgled from her slit throat. He was tempted to kick her, his disappointment was so great. But he rather liked the awkward sprawl of her body and decided not to disturb it. He wiped the knife carefully on her skirt, the razor-edge leaving a slit, and then calmly walked away.


	2. A Rose in Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing the delectable Philomeno

Philomena smoothed out her makeup, blotting her lips as the final touch. She stood straight and turned back and forth in front of the mirror, inspecting herself from every angle. She adjusted her breasts so that they rode higher in the skimpy dance costume. She pulled the shoulder sleeves down a little further so that her shoulders were fully bare. She would do, she thought. She double-checked her stockings one last time and then hurried quickly out of the communal dressing room, ignoring the milling girls still primping in front of the mirrors. She made her way to the side wings of the stage. She crept up to the edge of the curtain and twitched it aside just enough to see a narrow wedge of the audience hall. The seats she could see were already full and she could hear muffled laughter and conversation filling the room. She saw that the small band was already set up and had begun warming up their instruments. All of the stage lanterns had been lit. It was almost time. Philo felt her blood begin to thrum in her veins. She was ready to leap out onto the stage this minute.

She jumped with a silent yip as a large hand grasped her shoulder and pulled her around and away from the curtain. She stumbled a little as Crane, the stage-manager, continued yanking on her arm, his face set in angry and impatient lines. She followed him meekly enough, once she realized it was he that had grabbed her. She knew that anyone watching would assume that she was in trouble again. Indeed, she wasn’t at all sure that this wasn’t the case. Crane was one of the few stage-managers that she’d ever met who preferred to do his reprimanding in private. Whenever someone was in trouble, they got pulled into the director’s office (incidentally, the only office in the theater) and was given a thorough, but quiet, dressing down. Philo wondered if anyone had noticed that Crane pulled her aside a lot more than anyone else. She supposed the other dancers at least must have. They had been more than unusually unfriendly towards her lately. This never bothered Philo. She had never made friends well, even as a child. At least not female friends. She’d always had plenty of male friends and now that she was fully-grown . . . well, Philo never lacked for company. She tried to look nervous and scared as Crane pushed open the office door and roughly shoved her through it. He entered and closed the door behind him.

Crane looked nothing like the bird he was named after. He was a large, beefy man, broad throughout his body. He had a thick waist with a slight gut and thighs wide as tree trunks. His hands together were big enough to engulf her entire head. Philo particularly loved his hands, especially those blunt, solid fingers. In fact, Philo enjoyed every inch of his naturally large and powerful body. Many people wondered how a man like Crane, who looked like a thug and a bruiser, had become a stage-manager. While it was true that Crane acted as a sort of bouncer backstage, keeping anyone unwanted away from the girls, in truth he was a very capable and talented stage-manager. Beneath that Neanderthal brow, Philo knew, ticked a sharp mind that missed very little. The only thing that gave away his intelligence was the keen and watchful look in his dark grey eyes. They were gleaming now as he surveyed her from head to foot. Philo took this to mean that he hadn’t brought her to the office for a reprimand. She leaned back on the edge of the director’s desk and posed coyly for him, returning his burning look with one of her own. A good fuck was just what Philo needed to take the edge off of the nervous energy burning through her. It would help her concentrate better once she was on stage.

He grinned then and unbuckled his belt as he crossed the room quickly towards her. The heavy bulge behind his smallclothes pleased Philo to no end. She was already half-wet and there was perhaps only ten minutes till the dancers had to line up for their performance. She trembled in excitement as Crane reached into her bodice with one huge hand and lifted her breast free of confinement. He lowered his head and engulfed her nipple and a good part of her breast too, pulling at it with a strong sucking motion and a deft twirling of his tongue. Philo made a small mewling sound in the back of her throat as an almost painful pleasure shot through her belly and hit the pleasure center between her legs. 

She felt juices begin trickling from between her labia and she arched her back, pressing her breast deeper into Crane’s welcoming mouth. He groaned, sliding one hand behind her back to steady her, and then sent the other down to slip between her loosened thighs. Philo widened her legs until he could step between them and gave him full access to her vagina. He slid the wispy, layered skirt higher up her thighs and then ran one of his lovely, blunt fingers along the crotch of her short pantaloons, pressing slightly when he came to the lump of her clitoris, already un-hooded and straining weakly against his finger. Philo mewled for him again and he laughed against her breast. 

He slid his finger down a bit and then pressed deeply against the damp opening of her vagina. More than half his first digit entered her, straining the cloth. He pulled back his head, sucking on her breast until it came out of his mouth with an audible popping sound. Philo shivered as cool air struck her wet, pebbling nipple. She wanted to squirm, but was afraid of dislodging his lovely, pleasure-giving finger. Crane grinned at the desperate and hungry look on her face and pulled his finger away from her. Philo groaned in disappointment and pushed her hips towards him. He ignored her begging motion and pushed down the other side of her bodice so that he could gain access to her other breast. 

He switched hands so that he could kneed the first breast, running his thumb over and over the stiffened nipple, while he sucked the second breast into his mouth and teased it much as he had the first. Philo did squirm then, pressing her buttocks back into the desk and lifted one leg up to hook over the edge of it. She reached down to fondle Crane’s heavy erection, trying to pull the cloth aside so that it could spring free. He twitched his hips away from her exploring hand and then pulled his head away from her breasts. 

He let go of her altogether and Philo had catch herself against the desk as he stood away from her enough to push his pants and smallclothes down his hips. His penis came free, thick at the base and narrowing toward the tip. He was hard enough that it stood up almost straight, the tip brushing against his belly as he reached for her. Philo scooted off the desk and helped him pull her short pantaloons down past her knees. He turned her around and bent her over the desk, his hand heavy on the back of her neck. 

She shimmied her hips until the short pantaloons fell around her ankles and she stepped out of them. He slid one hand between her thighs and nudged her legs apart until he could see her vulva spread to reveal her passage. He slid first one finger and then a second into her, pushing them slowly all the way into her body. Philo had to bite her lips to keep from crying out in pleasure. Crane thrust his fingers in and out of her swiftly then, as he realized just how slick and wet she was already. 

With a muffled groan of his own, he added a third finger, and when all three slid in with almost no resistance he pulled them out all together and pushed the length of his penis into her in one long, sure stroke. He leaned down to press his forehead against her shoulder blade, holding his hips against her buttocks unmoving. Philo wiggled her hips after a few moments to encourage him and he gave a short groaning laugh against her skin. He kissed her spine then and straightened up enough to brace his arms on either side of her, his hands flat on the desk. 

He drew half out of her and then plunged in quickly again, making her squeak with excitement. He started a quick and pounding rhythm, knowing that they didn’t have time for a more leisurely lovemaking session. Philo rotated her hips slightly each time he thrust into her and as the pressure built in her stomach, she began pushing backwards to meet him, her inner muscles clutching at him when he pulled back again. Finally, he wrapped one arm around her waist to keep her from moving and reached between her breasts to clutch her shoulder, bracing them both on his forearms. 

He began thrusting into her in an earnest fashion, losing any sense of rhythm. Philo came then in a long shudder, her thighs and stomach quivering and a soft cry escaping through her clenched lips. She relaxed completely into his embrace and when he felt her vaginal muscles completely open, he pounded urgently into her soft folds, his breath heavy and fast against the side of her neck. Finally with a final thrust and muffled shout, he slid away from her, pulling out of her and spilling his cum into a swiftly applied handkerchief. 

Philo languidly turned, half-reclining on the desk to watch as he cleaned himself up and tucked his penis back into his smallclothes. She waited, not attempting to staunch the juices trickling from between her nether lips. They still had time and Crane wasn’t quite finished yet. He knelt down in front of her and Philo swiveled her hips round so that she was once again sitting with her buttocks on the edge. She leaned back and lifted her strong legs into the air, opening them into a V lift with her leaking labia right in front of his face. She tucked her hands beneath her thighs and lifted them a little higher, presenting herself as if for inspection. 

Crane parted her labia with his hands and took a long, lingering lick along the length of her vulva, beginning at her entrance and ending with a swirl around her clitoris. He thrust his tongue as deep as he could into her passage and began sucking at her juices. Philo gripped her thighs tighter, biting her lip to keep from making any loud noises. Her whole body began to tense again as he teased her clit with his finger, thrusting his tongue in and out of her passage. He pulled his head back and allowed her labia to close. He ran his tongue up the slit and then sucked on the pouting lips, occasionally pushing his tongue through to tease her inner vulva. 

Philo felt her body start to shake as she came again, hard, and she had to fight to keep from closing her thighs around his head. Instead she let go of her legs and gripped his hair, pulling his face forcefully against her. She made encouraging noises in the back of her throat as he opened her nether lips again and this time applied his tongue to her clitoris exclusively. He circled it, teasing and then sucked it quickly in for a few mind blowing moments. Philo finally cried out, unable to stop herself. She lifted a hand quickly to muffle the sound. She ended up biting her fist as her body shook uncontrollably and a small flood of liquid gushed from her vagina. Crane was ready with his busy tongue and caught every bit of the flow into his hungry mouth.

Philo finally relaxed back onto the desk, her legs drooping down until her feet almost touched the floor. Crane stood up, grabbing her short pantaloons and tossing them onto the desk beside her hand. He hiked up his pants and fastened them. He patted her flaccid thigh, urging her to get up and put her short pants back on. When she sat up with a satisfied groan, he smoothed her hair, tucking a few stray strands back into place. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a compact & lipstick that looked remarkably like her own. 

With amusement, she opened it and saw that it was indeed her own. She peered into the tiny mirror and fixed the smudges around her eyes and lips. She quickly reapplied her lipstick and then handed both back to him. She hopped off the table and pulled her short pants on quickly. She tucked her swollen breasts back into her bodice and readjusted the sleeves. She settled her skirts and then turned for his inspection. “Nice,” was all he said and Philo hurried to the door. She could hear the intro music playing outside and if she wasn't quick about it she would miss the dancers’ cue. 

She opened the door to the office and nearly ran into the director. The older gentleman frowned down at her disapprovingly. “In trouble again, Philomena?” he asked. “What was it this time? Fighting again, I suppose.” He neither expected nor wanted an answer. He continued without pause. “Get into place. Quickly now. If you miss your entrance again that will be the end of you – I don’t keep lay-abouts on my line.”

Philo bobbed her head in the semblance of a curtsy. She bit her tongue to keep from reminding him that she had never yet missed a cue and instead murmured a properly humble, “Yes sir,” before darting past him into the bustling crowd of dancers assembling in the wing. She heard him greet Crane as he entered the office and wondered briefly what he was doing backstage during the performance. He generally stayed out front with the guests during and after the actual performance. 

She let the thought go as the music cued their entrance and she swirled out onto the stage with the other dancers. She gave herself up to the music, letting her body move with long practiced moves, not thinking about anything except the tempo of her body and the music. She moved around the other dancers instinctually, barely aware of their presence on the stage, and lost herself in the rhythm.


	3. All that Glitters (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philo receives an offer she can't refuse and get's into a bit of trouble with her fellow dancers.

Philo followed the other dancers off the stage, her body still humming with muted energy. Ahead, she saw that the director and Crane were speaking with a young gentleman who was obviously paying very little attention to what they were saying. Instead, his head bobbed gently to the rhythm of their words while his eyes were glued to the dancers bouncing past him towards the dressing room. He smiled and nodded at the ones that paused long enough to give him flirty glances before Crane shooed them forward. Philo couldn’t blame them. The young man was obviously wealthy and not at all bad to look at. He wore perfectly tailored clothing and real jewels gleamed from his cuffs-links. His coat and trousers were perfectly pressed. The stiff collar at his neck seemed to emphasize a youthful quality in him, yet looked dashing all the same. Despite the boyish demeanor however, Philo decided that the young man was no callow adolescent. The way he stood, confident and comfortable, almost lounging in place, spoke of authority and independence. Philo would gamble her eyeteeth that this young man had reached his majority some time ago and was well-able to run his own affairs. All of which could add up to a very good thing indeed for a dancer in search of a protector. No, Philo couldn’t blame any of the dancers practically posing for his inspection. He was obviously interested in everything they had to offer.

Though not currently looking for a protector herself, Philo couldn’t resist giving him a flirtatious look as she hurried past him. She didn’t pause though for his inspection. It was more habit than actual interest on her part. She never lacked for offers and several of the carte blanches she’d been offered recently were from very wealthy men indeed. She didn’t need to risk the sometimes fickle generosity of a younger man when, in the past, she had found older and more experienced men were far more appreciative of her charms. They rewarded her generously, often much more extravagantly than any of the younger men she’d taken as lovers. In fact, though few knew it, Philo was in her own small way quite wealthy. She had taken to selling the jewels and gifts given to her by her patrons after she ended each affair and had amassed a modest fortune. She had taken her first hundred pounds around to several reputable solicitors, looking for one who would offer her what she considered reasonable terms. She had gotten lucky and the fellow she’d chosen had turned out to be honest. She had done all of her business with him since then and she was now almost ready to put down a payment for her own small townhouse. No longer would she have to live in the dorms with the other dancers. She would have her own home soon, bigger and even better than the one she had been born in or the traveling wagon she had been raised in. And she wouldn't owe anything to anyone for its upkeep. Philo thought that both of her mothers would have approved this.

Entering the dressing room, Philo headed to the back storage room where she kept her trunk with all of her personal belongings away from the vandalizing hands of the other dancers. Quickly she changed into her street clothes. She always hurried through this so that the other dancers would have less chance to spill anything into her trunk.

Once dressed, she dug through her reticule until she found her amulet. Whatever else she adorned herself with necklaces, jeweled or otherwise, Philo never went out without the amulet. She would have worn it even on stage if the director and Crane both hadn't threatened to throw her superstitious ass out on the street if she did. It wasn't an ugly piece, but neither was it beautiful. It was a dark green stone with streaks of pale green and white marbling through it. It was set in a heavy brass filigree oval frame and hung from a cord of braided plant fibers. Every once in a while the cord would wear thin and break. Philo always made a special trip into the countryside to find more of the plants so that she could replace it as soon as the cord snapped. She had learned how to do this at her foster mother's insistence, had been doing this for almost as long as she could remember, certainly almost from the beginning when Aaminah had taken her up in her traveling wagon. The gypsy woman had read her palm and thrown her cards the very first night and had begun fashioning the amulet on the next waxing moon. Philo had worn it ever since and would not be parted from her second mother's first and most important gift to her.

Philo was startled when someone gently touched her shoulder. She reached up and began tying the amulet on as she turned and found Crane standing at her side. His eyes held a sardonic look as he glanced at her amulet. He knew what it meant to her, but he didn't believe in its magic like Philo did. 

“What is it?” Philo asked, concerned that she was actually in trouble this time, though she couldn't think of anything that she'd done just recently. Although . . . there was the carved soap she'd put in Kelly's chocolate tin. But Philo was pretty sure that Kelly wouldn't have opened it yet and even if she had there was no way for her to prove that Philo had done it. Still Philo held her breath until Crane held up an embossed card for her inspection. She took it and then looked at Crane questioningly. Usually invitations were delivered by the stage runner, not the manager. That, combined with the unfamiliar coat of arms, tipped her off. “The young lordling?” she asked. 

Crane nodded, saying, “Yes, apparently, your stunning performance has enchanted him.” Philo winced at Crane's derisive delivery of what had probably been a lovely, if unoriginal, compliment. She flipped open the invitation and slowly read what the lord had scrawled in a flowery script. It read:

Your loveliness has enslaved me, my beautiful dancer. Please give me the unimaginable pleasure of your company for this evening.

It took a while for Philo to decipher the invitation, but once she had she looked up at Crane with amusement glittering in her blue eyes. “His lordship requests the unimaginable pleasure of my company this evening.” She couldn't disguise the laughter in her voice, as she continued, “Who is he? I can't read his signature and I don't recognize his arms.”

“He is Count Rudolf Evenstein, our new benefactor and patron,” Crane said. “You'll have seen him speaking with the director of course,” Crane didn't even acknowledge her sarcastic look as he continued, “He is apparently a great lover of the arts,” here he paused and a gave her a leering once over, then said, “especially those arts which include scantily clad young women.” 

Philo laughed. “I'll bet,” she said. She stared at the invitation musingly for a moment, hesitating. She hadn't planned on sharing her evening, but to turn down the theater's new patron could be dangerous. “What do you think, Crane?” She kept her voice low so that the other girls wouldn't hear. “Would he take offense if I turned him down? I really don't need another personal patron.” 

Crane pursed his lips and debated silently a moment. He rubbed his belt uneasily. “I don't know Philo. He seems an affable fellow, but you know the young ones can be touchy. He strikes me as having a bit of steel under that skin of his. He might not take rejection well.” Crane shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with his own assessment.

Philo sighed. While she was tempted, she knew it was foolish to discard Crane's caution. He was rarely wrong in his judgment of a person's character. She made a quick decision. She finished slipping the amulet over her head and then turned back to her clothes trunk. “Very well,” she said. “Please inform his lordship that I would be pleased to share the evening with him. Let me beg his indulgence as I need to freshen up and then I will join him,” Philo paused and looked back at Crane. “Where would he like me to join him?” Philo cringed at the thought of spending the evening flirting under the disapproving eye of the director. Crane seemed to read her thoughts and snorted, “No worries, my dear. I believe the Count wishes to spend the evening on the town rather than in the theater's entertainment parlor.” Crane grinned at Philo's immediate relief. “I will speak with his lordship and then escort you to him.” Crane gave her an abbreviated and mocking bow and then hurried off through the dressing room. 

Philo quickly stripped off her everyday wear and tucked them neatly back into her trunk. She pulled out a frilly shift and pulled it over her head. She heard a movement from the doorway as the cloth slid down over her head. She pretended not to notice, bending to pull out her best petticoat. She waited, alert for any sign of movement, but none came. She dropped the petticoat back into the trunk and turned. She wanted to deal with any problems before donning her very vulnerable clothing. Two of the senior dancers, Claire and Bridget were standing in the doorway with several of the junior dancers hovering behind them. 

Philo raised her eyebrow at the malicious anticipation in their eyes. Bridget stood with her hands behind her back and this made Philo edge more fully in front of her trunk. “What do you want?” she asked warily.

“We were just wondering,” began Claire.

“Yes, we wanted to know if it were true,” said Bridget.

“What?” Philo asked, her eyes narrowing.

“That you're fucking the China washboy,” Claire said, choking on a giggle. Several titters sounded behind her. Bridget got a strange pinched look on her face. Philo watched her closely out of the corner of her eye as she shrugged in answer to Claire's question. She reached back and casually closed the lid of her trunk.

“Well, is it true?” Claire demanded.

Philo sneered and replied, “Who I do or don't fuck is none of your business Claire. But,” here she paused and gave Claire a long insulting look before saying throatily, “If you're so interested in finding out what it's like . . .” Philo let the invitation hang for a moment before continuing, “I could lower myself to satisfy your curiosity just once if you like,” she finished.

A dark flush spread up through Claire's face and she didn't say anything for a moment. To Philo's surprise a brief hint of hunger ghosted through Claire's eyes before they squinted into a sneer. “You're disgusting, you slut.”

Bridget's hand came round then and Philo jumped to the side as she threw a jugful of liquid at her. A splash caught Philo's elbow and part of her hip, soaking quickly through the thin fabric. Philo felt a trickle run down the side of her leg. As a strong odor of ammonia reached her nose, Philo heard Claire say snidely, “Since you like spreading your legs for them, we thought you'd like to be yellow like your chinaboy. Perhaps now his lordship will see you for the diseased whore you are.” Her voice was low and vicious at the end of this speech.

“Yellow cunt,” hissed Bridget and tried to fling what was left in the jug into Philo's face. Rage filled Philo. In a flash she lunged forward, dashed the jug from Bridget's hand and smashed the heel of her hand into Bridget's nose. With satisfaction she heard a crunch and she turned quickly to ward off Claire's clawing hand. Philo had a hard time dealing with Claire's vicious scratches. The girl was an entire head taller than her and had a proportionately longer reach. Claire had one fist viciously twisting in her hair before she could stop her. Philo moved quickly into the taller woman and punched her just below her neckline, where her ribs met. Claire grunted and released Philo's hair, swinging her arm back for another punch. She backed off quickly though when she heard Crane's loud and angry voice in the dressing room. The small crowd of dancer's melted away and then Crane was able to come forward. He took one look at Philo's wet-streaked shift and Bridget's muffled wailing and began growling. Philo crossed her arms and glared at Claire, who moved quickly to comfort Bridget.

“Who's going to tell me what's going on here?” Crane's voice was tight with suppressed anger.

Claire jumped in quickly before Philo could say anything, “Look what that bitch has done to Bridget's nose. Just look! You have to punish her now, Crane. Bridget won't be able to go on stage like this.” Claire forced Bridget's hands down so they all could see her nose. It was already red and swollen. Philo was pretty sure that it would be crooked when it healed.

Philo didn't say anything. Instead she turned around and pulled the wet shift over her head. She wrinkled her nose at the ammonia stink of urine that rose from the shift, floor and her trunk. Bridget had aimed well, so that either Philo or her trunk would get the brunt of the liquid. Philo was thankful that she'd closed the trunk. She used the soiled shift to mop up the urine on the trunk and floor. She turned, ignoring the prickling of cold on her bare skin and held the shift out to Crane. He started, then wrinkled his nose as the acrid smell wafted up from the cloth. He made a disgusted noise and jerked his head toward the laundry basket kept in the corner of the walk-in closet. In the upper shelf was a basin and pitcher. She pulled both down and turned back to find Crane standing behind her. He took the pitcher without saying anything and went to the dressing room doorway. He bellowed for a runner and presently handed the pitcher out with a set of gruff instructions. He came back then and herded Philo back to the closet area where Claire still stood with her arm around Bridget.

As Philo passed her, Claire spat into her hair, snarling, “You shameless slut, wandering around with no clothes.” Philo jerked away reflexively, but before she could retaliate, Crane moved between them and casually back-handed Claire. He was almost gentle when he did it, but Claire's head snapped back nonetheless and a red mark began appearing on her cheek almost right away.

“I'm absolutely sure at this point that Bridget is not blameless.” Crane's voice was clipped and angry. “Take her down to the kitchen and get the kitchen boy to pack some ice for her nose.”

“That's not fair Crane,” Claire said fiercely. “You can't let her get away with this.”

Crane raised his hand again and Claire flinched away. She threw one last glare at Philo as she ushered Bridget out the door.

The runner was just knocking at the door as they exited. Philo heard the boy give a hiss of pain as Claire deliberately bumped into the pitcher he carried against his chest.

Philo started forward angrily, but Crane stopped her. She turned back to her trunk and dug down into the bottom. There, in a bag, she knew was some salve for burns. She found it and handed it to Crane. “For his burn,” she said. Crane's angry face softened and he met the boy as he tried to slip sideways through the door. He took the pitcher and handed it back toward Philo and then opened the tin for the boy. The boy scooped out some of the salve and pulled out his wet shirt so he could rub the thick salve onto the reddened skin of his bony chest. While he did this, he tried to peek around the door to catch a glimpse of Philo, who as yet was undressed. Crane stepped fully into the doorway, blocking his view, and gave him an admonishing look. The boy grinned unrepentant and tucked his shirt back in before hurrying away. Crane shook his head as he closed the door. “What set it off,” he asked Philo as he turned.

“I don’t know specifically what set it off,” Philo said. She added some vinegar and baker's soda to the hot water and quickly washed with the bubbling solution. She dabbed daintily at her hair, carefully washing out the spit and then patted it dry. “But their excuse was that I’m supposedly sleeping with Fwong Li. As if that were any of their business.” She shook her head, angry all over again. 

“Fwong Lee?” Crane gave her a puzzled look. He gave her back her tin of lotion. She tucked the tin away and pulled out more clothing. She donned a new shift, some lacy underpants and two sets of slim petticoats. She saw Crane's amusement. He knew she'd be taking them off again in an hour or so, so why put them on? Crane hung round dancers too much. He forgot that normal women wore six or more petticoats. Her thin and lacy bits were quite scandalous by society standards. 

“Fwong Li,” she said, “From Halloran’s Clothing Care and Repair.” She looked at him quizzically when he still looked confused. “The Chinese man who picks up our costumes every Monday.” She laughed at the look on his face. “Please tell me you actually have seen and talked to Fwong Li?” 

Crane frowned. “Yes of course, although I thought his name was Leon, but what the hell made those cats think you were fucking him?”

Philo looked away frowning thoughtfully. She slipped her corset over her head and pulled the front laces tight. She was fortunate that her dancing kept her waistline fairly slender, so there was no need for her to lace herself too tightly. “I’m not sure. Perhaps because I speak with him every Monday when he picks up our laundry? Although what she’s got against him, I’m sure I don’t know. He’s a perfectly lovely man. Maybe she’s jealous ‘cause she knows he wouldn’t give her a second glance.” Philo laughed, sending Crane an arch glance. He returned it with a sardonic grimace of his own, then leaned back against a dressing table, his arms crossed and a pensive frown smudging his face. Philo continued dressing, knowing he would speak when he was ready. She put on an underskirt next with a small light bustle attached to the back. Finally she pulled on a maroon satin evening dress. The cloth was so heavy that once she got the bulk of the layered skirt over her head the rest slid down without any help. Crane helped by guiding the sleeves onto her arms as the bodice came down over her head. Then he fastened the hooks in the back while she held herself very straight and still. They spent a few moments straightening out the skirt, which had a small train, making sure that the gathered portions in the back fell properly over the bustle. The gown wasn’t meant for dancing really, but more for visiting and posing. She had bought the dress specifically for assignations. It wasn’t really practical for anything else.

Finally, he spoke. “Be careful,” he said. Philo stopped and stared, shocked at this unusual statement from Crane of all people. “Leon or Fwong Li, or whatever his name is, he seems a harmless and nice enough man. But there have been rumors.” He stopped, looking uncomfortable. Philo turned towards him and gave him her full attention. His frown deepened. “The opium dens in the dock district have become quite . . . notorious. There have been some disappearances lately. I read about them in the Courier. Most of them occurred in that district and recently three women have been found murdered in or around that area. A lot of people think that the drug dens are to blame, especially the Chinese run establishments. They’re getting more infamous as more and more immigrants settle in the area. There’s a lot of anger going their way right now and its not popular to be a friend of theirs.” Crane shrugged uncomfortably at the angry look that grew on Philo’s face. “I’m only telling you to warn you. I don’t fully agree.” And he left it at that. 

Troubled, Philo moved to the dressing mirror then and began arranging her hair. She would think about what he had told her and he knew it. For now though she would concentrate on her toilette. She pulled pins and clips from her hair and brushed it quickly. It didn’t take a lot to get it smoothed out. Though she curled the ends with a curling iron each day before she put it up, her hair was so long and thick that if she kept out the tangles it always lay smooth alongside her face. She pulled the side tresses up and back and fastened them with a jeweled clip, forming wings that puffed slightly out from her head. She debated an elaborate arrangement but decided it would take too long. Instead she separated out two smaller tresses from behind her ears and fastened them slightly above the other with a smaller matching clip. She turned her head from side to side, looking for any stray wisps, but found none. The maroon of her dress brought out the red highlights in her dark hair, making the long tresses seem more auburn than brunette. She liked that effect and played it up by using a darker red lip cream and a bit of blusher. Her skin was pale enough that she didn’t need a lot to compliment it, but she knew that most if not all of her patrons expected it from someone like her, in fact demanded it. She understood that they liked a dancer like her to be less sophisticated and more whorish in appearance than a more high-class courtesan. It was part of the nature of their attraction to her. So she touched up her stage make-up, which was always exaggerated for effect on stage, rather than toning it down. She hurried, aware that the Count must be growing impatient. Crane watched throughout her preparations, enjoying the show. 

Philo had found that he liked watching her dress almost as much as he liked fucking her. At first it had amused her, but now she thought it was charming and also interesting. She had found that, though he obviously liked looking at all of the dancers, especially while they were dressing, he had never drilled any holes in the wall so he could watch them while they dressed. It was the mark of a true gentleman, she thought, that he didn’t abuse his privileges or his power over the dancers. As far as she knew, Crane had never used his position to force his attentions on any of the girls. Philo went over to him and stretched up to place a quick kiss on his cheek. He gave her a puzzled look, but she just went back to readying herself with a small secret smile. 

 

Once she was ready, Crane escorted Philo out to where the lordling's carriage awaited. He relinquished her arm to the theater footman, who then handed Philo up into the carriage. Philo raised her head as she stepped inside, hearing the Count say, “Greetings, my lovely.” Philo smiled at the young Count and murmured her own greeting. It was then that she saw that the Count was not alone. Beside him sat a young man, barely out of his youth. He sat slumped in the far corner, looking out the window. Philo hesitated, suddenly uneasy.

Count Evenstein leaned forward and gently grasped her elbow, urging her into the seat opposite him. “My sweet lady, thank you so much for accepting our invitation. I feared a goddess such as yourself would have many invitations and would leave our poor offering at the bottom of the pile, letting our hopes dance in the wind.” The Count gestured expressively as he spoke.

Philo blinked rapidly to hide her incredulous expression. She flipped her fan up quickly in front of her face as a grin broke out involuntarily, her uneasiness forgotten in the face of his absurdity.

“Your invitation was very flattering and intriguing, Your Lordship. I have to admit to a certain curiosity. How could I turn down such a gracious introduction?” Philo knew how to lay on the honey herself when she felt the urge.

The count smiled with obvious satisfaction. “Ah yes, the fair sex is always to be lured with curiosity, even a dark beauty such as yourself. We poor males must always rely on fresh mysteries to tempt you.”

Philo's eyes sparkled with her amusement. “Yes, my lord, you are indeed correct. We goddess' possess the same weakness as the cat and often with the same fate I fear.”

“Perish the thought, my darling, for why should we destroy the very object of our worship, our divine desire?” He leaned forward and took her gloved hand in his own, turned it over and pressed a kiss into her gloved palm. His un-oiled curls fell forward over his forehead and Philo felt the first twist of desire in her belly. She laughed with breathy delight at the Count's antics.

He rolled his eyes back to look up at her laughing face and then very gently bit the fleshy pad at the base of her thumb. Philo, feeling the grip of his teeth through the thin fabric, caught her breath as heat pooled between her thighs at the sensation. The Count released her and leaned back in his seat, wearing a look of knowing and anticipation. Philo took a few short, calming breaths and found herself suddenly looking forward to the evening.

Philo was reminded of the Count's companion then as he shifted in seeming discomfort. He had turned from the window, but said nothing as he watched their byplay. Philo wondered then who he was and what role he was to play this evening. She turned to the Count, intending to beg an introduction, but he anticipated her.

“You must be wondering about my silent companion here, and well you should,” the Count's eyes were almost twinkling. “This beautiful man is Thomas. He is a very dear friend to me. We're old school chums and have been boon companions for some time now. He shares everything with me.” The Count reached over and ran his fingers through the young man's wavy hair. He caressed the young man's face, tracing a finger along his jaw line. Philo watched this display with incredulity. She was just beginning to wonder why she was even present when the Count turned back to run his lustful gaze over her while saying, “We share so many things.” He ran his thumb over the young man's mouth as he continued to gaze at her with frank hunger. The young man's gleaming gaze was half-lidded and all for the Count. He leaned into the Count's long fingers as if mesmerized. “Indeed, we must thank him, as it was he that first saw your perfection and brought it to my notice.”

Philo shivered as the Count's eyes ran over her. “Once we saw you, we knew we must have you.” The Count's eyes gleamed in the lantern light that came through the window. Philo found herself shivering almost uncontrollably now, and not with desire any longer. There was something about the Count's continued use of the plural that disturbed her. And his eyes . . . the way they glittered in the twilight coach was almost predatory and strangely familiar to her.

The Count leaned forward then and the glitter disappeared from his gaze. “You're shivering,” he said softly, “Are you cold?” There was nothing in his eyes now except concern and desire. He rubbed her bare arms gently and this time Philo shivered from the frisson of electricity that came from his touch. She nodded to cover her conflicting reactions. “Its cool yet for spring,” she said.

He leaned forward in his seat and Philo was relieved when his eyes remained normal. She glanced quickly at his companion and saw that he was once again gazing out the window. Philo shivered again.

“It won't be long, my dear, until we arrive. My home is not far,” the Count assured her. He leaned back in his seat and continued to watch her. 

Philo was surprised. It was rare for one of her patrons to take her to his actual home. Usually they had a rented house specifically for rendezvous or they took her to some of their more accommodating clubs. She wondered again about the Count. Even as a bachelor, living on his own, it would be considered somewhat declasse by some of his peers for him to bring a long-term mistress into his home, much less a night's fling. She hoped that was all he was aiming for anyway – she certainly wasn't aiming for a long term affair. She would have to make that clear before the end of the night, she decided, just in case.


	4. Passionflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Count Rudolf and his lover Thomas enjoy their tryst with the beautiful dancer.

True to his word, it wasn't long before they reached the Count's home. The young man descended first, followed by the Count, who turned and helped Philo from the coach himself, dismissing the footman and coachman. He pulled first Philo and then the young man up alongside of himself, an arm around both of their waists. He gave them each a squeeze before tugging them toward the open foyer. A surprisingly young butler, perhaps only in his thirties, held the door open for them and greeted the Count as they entered. “Good evening Master Rudolf, Master Thomas.” He nodded at Philo. “I hope you had an enjoyable evening?” He gathered their hats and gloves, placing them carefully on an ornate rack beside the entryway.

“Hello, Kenneth, we did indeed have a very enjoyable evening. We have wandered through a garden of delights and have absconded with its fairest flower,” the Count said, brushing a stray lock of hair that hung alongside Philo's cheek.

“Indeed, she is very lovely,” Kenneth smiled benignly at Philo. “Would you enjoy an evening repast sir?”

“That would be delightful, Kenneth,” the Count agreed with enthusiasm. “Perhaps in the parlor?”

“Very good, Sir,” Kenneth replied, proceeding them to the door and ushering them in. “I will see to the preparations, sir,” he said, bowing himself out of the room.

The Count grabbed Philo’s hand then and pulled her into him as the door closed. “We are alone at last, my lovely,” he said. He slid a long-fingered hand around to grip her nape and pulled her in for a kiss. His lips were soft against her own, and he surprised her. Instead of thrusting his tongue into her mouth, he slanted his lips across hers and then ran his tongue along the length of them. He just barely brushed the sensitive flesh inside her mouth, teasing her. When he pulled away, his eyes were gleaming with pleasure. Philo ran her tongue along her own lips reflexively, amazed at the sensation. She had never been kissed quite like that and she found it very pleasurable. It reminded her somewhat of what Crane did when he licked her cunny, but the kiss had hit her pleasure center more delicately. 

She felt the hooks at the back of her dress begin to loosen, and turned her head to find Thomas undoing them. He had removed his coat and cravat while they had kissed and stood with his shirt half open, revealing a nicely shaped torso with a sprinkling of dark hair across his chest. Philo half turned and ran an appreciative hand along his chest and abdomen. He looked up briefly from his task and winked at her. She smiled then, relieved to know that he didn’t resent her presence. It was obvious that his place with the Count was, at the very least, semi-permanent. She turned back to face his lordship, finding that he had shed his own coat. He had thrown it carelessly over the back of an ornate hand-embroidered chair. He turned back to face her, watching Thomas’s efforts while loosening his cravat. He pulled it off and it very swiftly followed the coat.

Philo’s dress came loose suddenly and gaped forward, exposing her bosom and underclothes. She started to slip down the sleeves herself, but stopped as the Count placed his hand over hers. “Please my dove,” he said. “Let our lovely Thomas undress you for my pleasure.” 

“As you wish, your Lordship,” Philo said, bowing her head slightly in lieu of a curtsy. She let her arms fall gracefully to her waist and let Thomas get to it. He brushed her heavy hair forward over one shoulder and dipped his head to kiss that same shoulder before continuing. Philo held her breath and let her eyes wander over the Count as he loosened the links at his collar and wrists. Thomas slid his hands carefully down her shoulders, his fingertips barely brushing her skin as he slid the sleeves down her arms to her wrists. Philo swallowed at the erotic tickling of his light touch. Once he’d freed her arms, he repositioned them above her head so that she was posed very prettily. He stopped and looked at the Count then. “What do you think, My Lord?” he said in a young, husky voice. “Isn’t she as pretty as a picture?” Philo was startled at the slightly rustic accent coming from such a polished looking youth.

The Count smiled. “Yes, indeed, my dear. You are perfectly correct. ‘Pretty as a picture’, as you say.” He reached forward and slowly gathered up her long hair until he had it wrapped in a small bundle atop her head. “Hold it like this please, while he finishes.” Philo did as he asked, gathering her hair in her hands just as he had until only a few strands were left free to tickle her face and shoulders. The Count ran his hands down the length of her arms then and brushed his fingers gently across the mounds of her breasts, which were threatening to spill from her frilly chemise and corset. She took a deep breath of air, only serving to thrust them higher, making the Count smile. He fingered her amulet curiously. Philo could tell he was puzzled by it, but he said nothing and let it fall back to rest just above her bosom. He backed away and looked her over again. “Lovely,” he said. He settled back onto a settee and gestured for Thomas to continue.

Thomas loosened the last few buttons from her skirt, and the heavy fabric slipped down to the floor with a small whoosh. He knelt and guided Philo’s slippered feet one at a time out of the piled fabric. Then he carefully lifted the heavy gown and draped it across another of the wing-backed chairs nearby. Philo watched his care and wondered suddenly if he were the Count’s valet. Few men she knew cared enough to lay out a gown like that. She supposed that the Count wouldn’t be the first aristocrat to be so peculiar as to tup his valet, especially one as well-formed as this Thomas. Of course having his valet accompany him to the ballet was a bit much, even for a foreigner. Philo found herself intensely curious now about the both of them. Thomas returned and quickly untied the stiff bustle, catching it before it fell to the floor and placed it carefully on top of her evening dress. Then he ran his hands up the length of her legs until he found her pantaloons. He stopped briefly to cup her ass cheeks before deftly unbuttoning them and pulling them down. Philo giggled as they hit the floor and the Count sat forward. She caught the waistband of the pantaloons with an arched foot and flipped them at him. He caught them, laughing, and then brought them to his face so he could inhale the scent of her. Philo bit her lip and half turned her head away, watching him from the corner of her eye. His smooth lips quirked and Philo found herself blushing as he buried his nose in the crotch of her short pants. He leaned back, watching her with low-lidded eyes.

Thomas scooted a chair closer to her and knelt beside her again. He helped her remove her slippers, placing them together under the chair. He glanced up the length of her then and Philo met his gaze full-on for the first time. She stopped breathing. His eyes were a startling shade of wintery blue. She’d never seen anything quite like them and they disturbed her with how pale they were. He grinned at her and they flashed. She realized then that they reminded her of a wild dog in the night, like the ones that her Papa had often driven away from their camp. His eyes flashed just like theirs when the torchlight found them in the dark. Philo shivered, looking quickly at the Count, who seemed oblivious to her sudden fear. Thomas gripped her calf and heel then, and Philo looked back down to see that he had looked away. But he did not bother to hide a small knowing smile as he guided her stiff leg up onto the chair. The Count startled her then when he said, “Yes that’s perfect! I would like to see again her beautiful legs.” 

Philo took a deep breath and smiled provocatively at the Count. She shouldn’t feel so much fear. He was only a man after all - and whatever his true nature, she doubted this Thomas would hurt her in the presence of the Count. But suddenly her raised arms felt quite heavy from holding her hair up for so long. The door to the parlor opened quietly then, and the butler Kenneth came sideways into the room carrying a loaded serving tray. He placed the tray on a side table and began laying out tableware for the three of them. He cast one long appreciative glance at the posed dancer, but otherwise made no comment. The Count appeared oblivious to him as he watched Thomas slide her petticoat high along her thigh, exposing the top of the stocking on her lifted leg. He teased his fingers along the edge of the lace garter, then slid his finger underneath. Philo shivered again and tensed as his hand slid swiftly along her inner thigh to touch her intimately. Just as quickly he pulled his hand back and he was teasing her skin above the stocking again, watching her face the entire time. The Count chuckled. “Now, now, that’s no fair, Thomas,” he said, “Tasting what we can’t yet enjoy.” 

Thomas only grinned, unrepentent, and moved behind Philo so he could begin undoing her corset. He pulled the laces out completely instead of merely loosening them, so that each subsequent set took longer and longer to come free. Philo found that she was having trouble breathing with him so close to her. What she would normally find erotic suddenly terrified her and she could not relax her muscles with him so close. She felt his breath on her shoulders again and jerked slightly as he placed his mouth on her bare skin. He didn’t kiss her, but instead made small licks against her skin as he continued to pull the laces out down the length of her back. When the last tie came loose he pushed the corset forward and let it fall to the floor. He let his hands rest on her stomach then and looked to the Count, who was smiling and licking his lips in anticipation. Philo could feel the warmth of his hands through the thin fabric of her chemise and her abdomen muscles jumped under his fingertips. She felt him catch his breath and she knew that her fear was turning him on. He pressed himself against her and she felt his erection rub against her arse-cheeks through her petticoats. He was very excited, she could tell.

Kenneth gave a discreet cough then to indicate that their service was ready, and the Count made an impatient gesture at Thomas. He let go of her suddenly and Philo had to catch herself. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been pulling away from him. He crossed the room and gathered a plate, filled it and placed it beside the Count. “Brandy?” Thomas asked. “Yes, yes. Quickly now,” was the other man’s only reply. Thomas went to a sideboard, opening it to reveal an impressive collection of cut-glass decanters and various sized drink glasses. He removed one snifter and filled the bowl with one deft pour. The glass clinked as he replaced the plug into it. He left the bottle out, giving the glass several swirls with his hand cupped around the bowl before he handed it to the Count. The other man inhaled the fumes of the slightly warmed brandy and then took a healthy sip. He made an appreciative mmmh and then gave Thomas the same low-lidded look he’d been giving Philo. He reached out and stroked the youth’s ready erection. “Why are you still dressed, Thomas?” he asked, rubbing curved fingers along the protruding silk, then reaching forward to cup the entire bulge. Thomas was panting now and reached swiftly to undo the buttons of his breeches. 

“Tsk, tsk, my dear,” said the Count, “Such haste. Don’t you think we should thank Kenneth first for such a fine service?” The Count took another sip from his brandy and watched Thomas with a sly look in his eyes. Thomas groaned slightly, and then pulled off his shirt. He let it drop to the floor and turned to Kenneth, his eyes half-closed. Philo was amazed to see an anticipatory smirk on the young butler’s face. Thomas went gracefully down onto his knees and then slid his hands up the butler’s thighs. There was a definite bulge at Kenneth’s crotch now and it only grew more prominent as Thomas’s hands drew nearer. He looked up at Kenneth, saying, “Thank you Kenneth.” His voice was husky and pure sex.

Philo watched, stunned, as the young man undid the buttons on Kenneth’s pants and then reached into his underclothes. He drew out a long narrow cock, and she heard Kenneth hiss with pleasure. His head fell back as Thomas’s wet lips slid down the length of him. Thomas worked his way back up and then down again. Philo could hear the slurping noise, and then he was swallowing. She saw Thomas’s tongue moving beneath the skin of his cheek and the butler groaned, pumping his hips gently in time to the movement of Thomas’s head. Philo glanced over at the Count and saw that his eyes were glued to the tableau, one of his hands stroking forcefully over his own prominent crotch. Philo decided she’d had enough of posing. She slid down onto the floor and crawled to kneel between the Count’s legs. He watched her with a light smirk and low-lidded eyes as she slid her hands slowly up his thighs, copying Thomas’s show almost exactly. She paused near his crotch and smiled coyly up at him. He lifted his hand away from himself and ran it slowly down his shirt, sliding the buttons loose as he went. Soon enough he had exposed most of his chest, and Philo smiled in pleasure at the sight of his smooth pale muscles. There were some plus sides to younger benefactors, she thought to herself. 

She glanced back to check on the butler’s state and found that he was close to coming. Thomas’ tongue was moving swiftly now, and he was twisting his head on the down strokes. The butler’s head was tilted all the way back and his hands were fisted in the younger man’s hair. He was making an almost pained sound. Philo was fascinated and extremely turned on. She’d never seen two men together and she found that she liked the sight extremely well. The movement of Thomas’s hand and head, the almost painful flush on his pale cheeks, all of it set her blood to humming through her veins. 

She turned back to the Count when she felt his finger stroke softly down her cheek. His mouth quirked with a small smile as he slid his finger between her lips. He moved it gently in and out and Philo closed her lips to suck on it in tandem with his movements. Finally his finger wasn’t enough and she reached for his groin again. She made short work of his clothes, laying the flaps of pants and small-clothes wide open so she could see his groin. She combed her fingernails gently through his pubic hair, letting her fingers circle around his penis a few times before dragging one nail gently down the length of his semi-hard shaft. She was delighted when it responded with a twitch. The Count laughed, a breathy sound leaving him as her nail crossed the tip. Philo glanced up again, her eyes gleaming wickedly. She gripped his shaft then and he became very serious, watching her expectantly. She stroked gently, coaxing the head out slowly, the loose foreskin firming as he lengthened. When at last the plum-shaped glans was fully exposed, Philo lowered her head and took the tip into her mouth. She could taste the salt tang of him as she traced the shape of his glans with her tongue. He groaned deeply above her, and she felt his fingers slide through her hair to grip the base of her neck. To his credit the Count didn’t try to pull her head down. His grip was tight but not uncomfortable. Philo rewarded him with a twisting down-stroke that made him gasp, and his belly contracted under her hand. She continued in this manner for a few moments, but was startled into raising her head and turning when a loud, hoarse shout came from behind her. The butler stood limp, his head hanging and his hands loose around Thomas’s shoulders. The youth was busily finishing the man, mouthing at the softening cock. Philo had to admit to being impressed at the younger man’s skill. He was, she thought, even better at this than she was. 

Thomas buttoned the butler back up, patting the re-clothed groin with a familiar fondness that made Philo grin. The butler seemed content to be dismissed then and bowed as the Count waved him away, leaving the room with a small murmur. Thomas joined them, sprawling alongside the Count on the duvet and looked down at Philo lounging between his lordship’s legs. Her head was perched on one clothed thigh, and her expression was thoughtful. He grinned at her and winked, then turned as the Count’s hand gripped his chin and pulled him in for a kiss. At the same time the Count pulled at Philo’s head insistently. The dancer went back to work on his cock, but kept her eyes rolled up so she could watch them kiss. She found that watching them was making her very wet indeed.

The Count thrust his tongue into Thomas’s mouth, laving the inside of the youth’s cheeks. His hand cradled his companion’s chin, holding him still for plundering. Philo reached out and ran her hand up Thomas’s thigh until she reached his crotch. She cupped her hand over the length of an impressive erection. His member was pressed sideways along his thigh by the tightness of his trousers and she could feel the outline. She stroked it in time to the movements of her head. Thomas groaned into the Count’s mouth and shifted so that he could reach down and unbutton his breeches. He broke the kiss briefly so that he could lift himself long enough to thrust his trousers and small clothes below his hips. The Count laughed at his eager haste, reaching out to slide his hands across Thomas’s body, ending by cupping his hips. The Count reached in between Thomas’s legs and caressed his balls lovingly. The youth’s cock was now free and standing eagerly erect.   
Thomas reached down to cup Philo’s head, pulling her up for a quick kiss. She nearly fell forward as she balanced on her knees. She was shocked when she tasted semen on his lips. She stretched up for a longer taste as he began to pull away, reaching out to pull him back down to her. 

The Count said near her ear, “Intoxicating, no? The taste of a man on such lips?” He took her hand then and guided it down to Thomas’s erection. She stroked the length of it with her fingers. It was thicker than the Count’s by far, though not as long. Her fingers barely overlapped near the base and Philo felt an all-over flush at the thought of it thrusting into her. She broke the kiss and buried her warm face in Thomas’s shoulder. He turned his head and offered his mouth to the Count again. He braced himself in this position, one hand against the back of the couch and the other on Philo’s shoulder, holding himself so that they could both touch him.

The Count slid one hand along Thomas’s chest and used his other to circle the taut nipples peaking from Philo’s chemise. He teased them gently, pinching them and tugging until they stood up, thrusting forward from their frilly cage. The Count reached down and slid two fingers into her labia, stroking across her clitoris swiftly and then slowly drawing back. Each time he let his fingertips slide close to her opening, but then drew back to circle around her tiny button. Philo ended up gripping Thomas’s skin between her teeth, licking lightly at the flesh trapped in her mouth. He groaned and thrust against her stroking hand.

Rudolf slid his other hand around to stroke down Thomas’s back. He paused just at the base of the youth’s spine so that he could trace the sweet triangle at that dimple just above the swell of Thomas’s round buttocks. He let his fingers trail back and forth as he bit gently on the youth’s kiss swollen bottom lip. Thomas groaned for him again and shuddered slightly. He slid a finger between his lover’s nether cheeks, running the pad gently across the pucker of Thomas’s anus. Thomas shuddered again and the Count smiled to feel the sensitive flesh twitch under his touch. He pulled his hand away then, and let go of the youth’s mouth. He leaned back, bringing his exploring hands back to a more respectable location. He looked at his lovely companions and grinned. The dancer was stroking Thomas slowly, tightening and relaxing her grip as she moved her hand along the length of Thomas’ cock. She was biting at his shoulder and the sight made Rudolf’s groin tighten. She was reaching out to take him in hand again when the Count decided he’d had enough foreplay.

“I think it is time to retire to the bedroom,” he said, his voice husky with lust. He patted Thomas’s arse and then pushed at him gently. With a disappointed sound, Thomas sat back and pulled his pants back around his hips. Rudolf laughed. “Never fear, my dear,” he said. “We’ll take up right where we left off. Only there will be more room to maneuver.” The dancer sat back also, her chemise blooming prettily around her as she knelt before them. Rudolf took the time to enjoy the sight as he straightened his own trousers and buttoned only the top-most button. She was winsome in the way of so many young creatures and moved with a natural grace that he was sure she had possessed before she began her dancing career. When she rose it was as if she merely straightened and floated off of the floor. She turned and her chemise swirled around her, an accent to her movement, as if she were on stage still. She took his hand and pulled at him with surprising strength. He resisted playfully and then finally let her pull him to his feet. She ran her hands up the length of his chest and then kissed him. He felt Thomas rise also and he pressed himself against Rudolf briefly before darting in for a quick bite of his own on the dancer’s neck.

It did not take them long to reach the master bedroom. They flew up the stairs with all the haste of youth and passion. Thomas reached the door first, pushing it open with an almost violent shove. The Count followed shortly behind, tugging a laughing Philo in behind him. The room was well lit and a crackling fire warmed the air enough that they did not shiver in their half-unclothed state. Rudolf made quick work of his pants, shucking them and kicking them under a chair. He gathered Philo and Thomas both in against his naked body, an arm around each of their waists again. The dancer giggled, pressing herself against his chest, stroking his body wherever she could reach. She leaned forward and nipped gently at his nipple, startling a laugh out him that quickly turned into an eager groan when she licked it in apology. Thomas turned in his embrace and loosed his own trousers, letting them fall at his feet and stepped out of them. This left only Philomena still clothed, and Rudolf determined that this would never do. He tugged at her chemise, the loose cloth giving easily and soon enough sliding to the floor. They moved together then in fits and starts towards the bed, pausing to caress and kiss. Rudolf could not help but compare the dancer and youth to nymphs - and he laughed aloud as he pictured himself as a lusty satyr, luring them into a secluded grotto. This thought inspired him, and once they climbed onto the bed he turned and loosened the bed curtains. They were heavy and fell almost completely closed. 

He left the end drapes open so that the fire was framed and lit up the interior of the now very cozy bed. Thomas looked startled, but the dancer seemed pleased with the effect. She knelt in the center of the bed, only her amulet for adornment, her long dark hair framing her breasts in the firelight. She looked pagan and utterly desirable. Rudolf ran his hand down the length of her back and cupped cheek of her tight dancer’s bottom. He reached and did the same to Thomas with his other hand, then bent his head to suckle on the dancer’s nipple. He squeezed gently, massaging the firm flesh of their respective cheeks. Rudolf was an aficionado of the ‘arse’ as the British liked to call it. The dancer’s legs and bosom were quite fine, but in the end he knew that it was her perfect heart-shaped derriere that excited him. Thomas’s cheeks were also quite lovely, nicely rounded and fleshy for a man. 

Soon enough, Rudolf knew he couldn’t play much longer. He wanted to sink his flesh into one of them and he couldn’t decide which. He lifted his head from the dancer’s swollen nipple and transferred his mouth to Thomas’s chest. The youth sucked in his breath and groaned. Rudolf laughed into his chest. Thomas’s nipples were very sensitive, and glancing down the Count could see that the younger man was even more ready for release than he was. He let go of Thomas and gathered Philomena close, guiding her until she was positioned between them with Thomas at her back. Her eyes widened and she looked back at Thomas quickly before she turned back to the Count. Rudolf could see the question hovering on her half open lips, but he forestalled it with a long lingering kiss. He continued to stroke her breasts and belly as Thomas positioned himself on his knees behind her. Once the youth was balanced, Thomas slid his hands up her thighs and settled them on her hips. She made a small eager noise into the Count’s mouth, and he knew she was more than ready. He broke the kiss and helped her lean forward. He made encouraging noises as she braced herself against him and widened her legs. Rudolf watched over her shoulder as Thomas guided the head of his lovely cock to her opening and entered her slowly. She quivered against Rudolf’s chest and he could hear her begin to pant slightly. She wriggled then and pushed herself back against Thomas as if she couldn’t help herself. 

Rudolf laughed softly. He knew how much fun Thomas could be and he was glad to see that she was discovering this for herself. He settled back on his haunches then and let her slide down his body until her head was near his very eager cock. She responded quickly with her mouth and he groaned as the warm slick tongue slid over him. He let his head fall back, gripping his thigh and the pillow behind him tightly with his hands. His entire body grew taut and he couldn’t help rocking his hips slightly in response to her bobbing head, but he held himself as still as he could. It didn’t take long for her sweet mouth to bring him to the edge. He warned her with a cry. He felt his groin tighten and then the warm rush of his seed spilled into her mouth. She pulled back slightly but kept a tight seal on his shaft with her lips. He shuddered into her a few more times and then collapsed against the bed, suddenly able to breathe again. He drew in a few deep breaths before he moved, settling himself into a more comfortable position. He reached out and caressed her breasts gently. She whimpered in pleasure as Thomas started thrusting into her with more vigor. Rudolf knew that the younger man had held back until he himself had finished. Thomas was considerate, always making sure that the Count found his pleasure before he took his own. It amused Rudolf that he did this, and also pleased him more than he cared to admit.

Thomas had leaned forward and was pressing himself into the dancer with longer, deeper strokes. Rudolf knew he must be close to release, judging by how hard the youth had been when they started. He left off playing with the dancer and crawled around behind his younger companion. He ran his hand down the length of Thomas’ strong back. It was flawless and smooth, the muscles distinct under lightly tanned skin. He placed a kiss on Thomas’ shoulder and slid his hands round the youth’s chest, gently cupping Thomas’ chest muscles. He played with the nipples. Thomas paused in his thrusting to groan and his head dropped backward to rest on Rudolf’s shoulder. He turned it blindly toward the Count, and Rudolf took the opportunity to kiss his companion. The taste of Thomas’ salty lips took him back to the first time he had felt them against his own. As always he was surprised by how soft Thomas’ lips were. He thought of the youth as strong and somewhat rough. To have such soft lips seemed a contradiction to Rudolf. 

~The first time he’d kissed those lips had been in the back of a frontier bar. Rudolf remembered feeling both wicked and scared. He had slipped down to the bar on a whim, determined to defy his father and their foreman and their belief that he couldn’t handle being on his own in the new country. He had gotten determinedly drunk, eyeing the saloon women but not really sure he wanted to try their charms. Besides which, there were three men for every woman in the place and his defiance hadn’t quite stretched to getting into a brawl over a woman who’d probably been with at least five men already that night.   
Finally, he had stumbled into the back looking for the WC. In the hall he’d met a rough looking young man, perhaps four years his junior. Back home, he would have still been in knickers, but there in America, he’d obviously reached his manhood early. He wore a man’s clothes and carried a gun on his hip in a rough leather holster. Rudolf, barely able to speak English, had pressed himself back against the wall to let him pass. The youth had instead stopped and leaned against him, rising slightly on his toes until they were eye to eye. Rudolf had been startled by the pale, dark-ringed eyes. The youth had said something then and it took a few moments for Rudolf to translate it in his head. Apparently, the American thought he had a 'fuckable' mouth. Rudolf had blinked and then almost laughed. The youth was hitting on him. This he could handle. He leaned down slightly until their mouths were almost touching and he’d said, “Dann tun Sie es.” The American’s eyes had widened slightly then he’d grinned, saying, “Oh boy, I don’t know what you just said, but I hope it means yes ‘cause that’s what’s gonna happen here.” Then he’d pressed himself fully against Rudolf and thrust his tongue into the older boy’s mouth.~

Rudolf was brought back to the present by the feel of Thomas jerking slightly against him, his soft lips opening on a gasp as the dancer rotated her hips against him. Rudolf could feel Thomas’ whole body spasm slightly against his own. He slid his hands down and around, pausing to caress his nipples, before moving one down to press against Thomas’ stomach, cupping the small pooch just above his groin. Thomas panted and Rudolf felt the muscles jump under his hand. He grinned and nipped Thomas’ lip between his teeth so he could suck on it. Then he pushed until they were both bent forward over the dancer. Rudolf pressed gently and Thomas got the idea. He began pumping again, following Rudolf’s rhythm until they were moving together. The Count pressed his stiffening cock against Thomas’ fleshy buttocks, his chest along the other man’s back. He steadied himself with one hand gripping the dancer’s hip and curled his other arm across Thomas’ chest. 

The dancer had nearly collapsed on the bed, her upper body pressed down on the bed, her hips high against Thomas’ groin, twisting and grinding back against the younger man. Rudolf quickened his movements until Thomas was fucking her furiously. She was making a lot of noise, groaning and mewling, sounds that were making Rudolf want to dive into her himself. He snaked a hand down and slid two fingers roughly into her swollen labia. He let her movements slide her across his fingers to the right spot and when he felt the little head of her clitoris he began circling it with his fingertips. She shuddered and Rudolf heard Thomas groan when she tightened around his shaft. The Count reached a little further back, his chest tight against Thomas’ back, and caressed the stretched flesh of her inner lips where they gripped Thomas’ cock. He heard both of them gasp at that and hid a grin in his companion’s shoulder.   
The dancer started writhing and Rudolf felt her vulva contract under his fingers. Her entire body shook with enough power to move Thomas and Rudolf both. Thomas started cumming then himself and Rudolph lifted off of him so that he could watch the shudders move across his lover’s frame as he continued pumping into the dancer. Rudolf sat back on his heels and ran his hands up and down Thomas’ back, kissing the sweat-dewed skin occasionally. Thomas drew in deep shuddering breaths that lifted his frame slightly with each intake. His head hung low, his damp hair brushing the dancer’s back beneath him. 

Finally Thomas lifted himself off of her and half-collapsed to the side. He smiled lazily up at Rudolf, who couldn’t help but admire the youth’s slick muscles. The Count reached forward and slid his hands along the length of their thighs. The dancer rolled over, a satisfied look on her face. The ends of her hair clung gently to her curves and Rudolf could see small curls sticking to her forehead. He reached forward and traced her hairline, fascinated by the way the curls clung to his fingertip. She giggled, seeming startled at the caress. She reached out and mirrored his actions, letting her fingers trespass into his hair and actually play with his curls. Rudolf chuckled and she smiled, her cupid bow mouth bare now, pink and ripe, most of her makeup having rubbed off during their passionate play. Rudolf was startled to realize that she was actual more beautiful without the makeup. Her dark eyes gleamed with sensual promise as she let her hand trail down from his temple and trace along his jaw. She paused at his chin and let her thumb trace the small dimple that only appeared when he smiled. She turned to Thomas and did the same to him. He actually started laughing when she let her fingers touch his bottom lip. 

“That tickles,” he said and she smirked.

“Would you kiss again,” she asked them, surprising Rudolf. “I enjoyed watching you together,” she admitted, looking slightly embarrassed, but excited.

Rudolf and Thomas looked at each other briefly, sharing a secret look, then Rudolf said to the dancer, “Yes, I think we can oblige you, mein schöner Tänzer, if you will return the favor after.” He gave her an approving once over before turning his attention back to his lover. 

Thomas leaned back on his elbows and gave a lazy smile. Rudolf returned his look in full and crawled over him, straddling his hips. Rudolf bent his head down and hovered with his lips a hairsbreadth from Thomas’. He whispered, his words barely more than a sigh. “Was wollen Sie, mein Leben?” He let his lips brush Thomas’ mouth. Thomas sucked in air quickly as he felt Rudolf’s hand grip his cock. Rudolf smiled at the sound. “Say it,” he demanded, his accent thickening with his excitement. He slanted his eyes sideways and saw the dancer, perfectly still, watching them with wide glistening eyes, biting her lip. He looked back down into Thomas’ eyes, their pale color flashing like silver in the firelight. “Say it,” he demanded again, stroking the length of Thomas’ already hardening penis.

Thomas gave in with barely a fight. “Küss mich!” he growled out, before reaching up to try to press his lips against Rudolf’s. Rudolf pulled back just out of range and laughed softly. 

“Is that all?” he asked coyly. “Or do you want more?” 

Thomas groaned and thrust up into Rudolf’s hand. “God, kiss me, touch me, fuck me,” he said. “Whatever the hell you want, just do it!” 

Rudolf laughed briefly before bending his head back down to slip his tongue into Thomas’ mouth. Thomas groaned again and then sucked on it eagerly. Rudolf continued stroking Thomas, thrusting his tongue in careful rhythm with the movements of his hand. Soon enough he felt moist precum coating his fist on each upstroke. Ah, Thomas was so easy to excite, he thought in satisfaction. He stopped moving his hand when he felt Thomas shudder slightly. He pulled it away and braced himself to look down at Thomas. His lover took a moment to focus on his face. When he finally did, he let his eyes ask what he wanted to know. Rudolf smiled and answered him aloud. “I am going to fuck our Tänzer here and you,” he paused and leaned down to whisper into Thomas ear, “I want you to fuck me.” He ran his tongue along the shell of Thomas’ ear before gently biting the lobe. Thomas watched him with smoldering eyes as he rose back onto his knees. The younger man rose then and left the bed.

Rudolf carefully climbed sideways over his two playmates, until he was hovering over the dancer on all fours. She giggled as he bent down and took her left nipple into his mouth, his dark curls tickling her skin where they fell against her breast. She moaned, bringing her graceful arms up to embrace his shoulders as he moved upward to claim his kiss from her. He thrust one knee gently between her legs and she let her thighs fall open, allowing him full access. He slid his hand down to explore her. She was slick and wet. His fingers found her opening and pushed in quickly. She arched against his hand, her mouth opening wide and he was tempted to thrust his cock between her lovely lips again. Instead he lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder and guided the head of his cock to her entrance. “Uhn . . . Yes, please,” she cried as he thrust in to the hilt. He felt her pubic hair mesh with his and it created a pleasant friction as he made several more small thrusts.

He felt the bed shift as his lover returned, crawling onto it using only one hand. Thomas held his own cock with his other hand, stroking slowly before he crawled into the center where Rudolf and the dancer moved together. Rudolf watched him from the corner of his eye as he continued to stroke into the writhing dancer. When Thomas let go of his cock and reached for Rudolf, the Count stilled his movements. He looked down at the girl. She was decadent, spread open for his enjoyment. His navel felt heavy and full at the thought of what lay both before and behind him. He grinned down at her and she spread herself wider for him, lifting her legs higher so that he could press deeper into her. He did just that, hooking the backs of her knees with his arms as he braced himself over her. He widened his stance so that Thomas had room to kneel between his knees. Then he waited. Thomas bit his shoulder and thrust two fingers into his anus. Rudolf jerked at the sudden intrusion, startled as always at the lack of warning. He felt the familiar burn as Thomas pumped his oil-slicked fingers in and out of his orifice. Rudolf held himself still, his eyes closed, holding his breath at the incredible sensation. His sensitive flesh clung to the invading digits and Rudolf’s cock responded, swelling inside of the dancer. 

Thomas didn’t prep him much, knowing that when Rudolf wanted to be fucked, he wanted it badly. He withdrew his fingers and swiftly replaced them with his penis. Rudolf relaxed his muscles so Thomas could enter him as easily as possible. He bent further over the dancer. He darted his head down to suckle her nipple while he gave Thomas room to start pumping into him. Rudolf grunted, saliva filling his mouth as he began moving also. He let Thomas set the rhythm, alternately pushing back to meet Thomas’ thick intruding cock and then thrusting deep into the dancer’s moist welcoming cunt. It didn’t take long for him to begin to lose his coordination. His movements became smaller and smaller as he struggled not to cum. He wanted the dual sensation to last. 

His hands slid forward on the bed when Thomas pounded into him with particular force. He landed on his elbows, his face pillowed between the dancer’s soft breasts. Rudolf would have laughed but his mouth was dry. It felt as if Thomas were thrusting straight through his body. His throat felt so full and tight that he could barely breathe. He felt the dancer’s hands on his shoulders then. She held his arms so that he could brace himself again and he looked up to see her eyes wide with excitement, something wild beyond lust staring back at him. He began pumping into her again, responding to her primal look, rotating his hips slightly so that he pressed upwards into her with each in-stroke, making sure that his navel ground against her clitoris. Her eyes gleamed briefly and then she threw back her head and gave a soft cry. He continued thrusting as he felt her inner muscles clench and ripple around his shaft. His head felt impossibly squeezed and he gasped in ecstasy. Thomas entered him fully again at that same moment, hitting his sweet spot; and Rudolf felt as he could die from the rapturous sensation. He would have lost it then except that his testicles and penis were both so tight, they couldn’t manage the ejaculation. “Mein Gott,” he gasped out, and he nearly collapsed as the incredible tightness eased. He began cumming before Thomas had pulled even halfway out of him. Rudolf tried to pull back out of the dancer, but this served only to drive Thomas deep into him again and he lost it, pumping mindlessly back and forth between them, the heat seeming almost to burn his sensitized skin. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that Thomas was fucking him raw and that the dancer was convulsing a second time around his cock, but he was so lost in the sensation that it all seemed distant. Then he passed the peak and his limbs felt suddenly boneless. He collapsed sideways, enough thought left to him to avoid slumping on the dancer directly, but exhaustion hit him swiftly. He felt drained, body and mind and he knew he would sleep like the dead. But he wasn’t unhappy - oh no, on the contrary, he thought, if it were possible to die from such exertions, this would be the way he’d want to go. He chuckled weakly as he fell asleep.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s notes ~ Just in cases:
> 
> WC: water closet, forerunner of the bathroom
> 
> Dann tun Sie es: Then do it  
> schöner Tänzer: beautiful dancer  
> Was wollen Sie, mein Leben: What do you want, my Life?  
> Küss mich!: kiss me!


End file.
